


Aubade

by etheryeol



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bad Poetry, Byun Baekhyun is a Little Shit, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentioned Kim Jongin | Kai, Pianist Park Chanyeol, Producer Park Chanyeol, Romance, Sad Do Kyungsoo, Singer Byun Baekhyun, Soulmates, copious amounts of sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-24 04:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etheryeol/pseuds/etheryeol
Summary: Aubade; either means a morning love song or a song about lovers separating at dawn.//Soulmates are born with a melody that connects them; one of them only knows the beginning part of the song, and the other one only knows the final part.//A world in which Park Chanyeol notices the flaws in their song;In which Do Kyungsoo doesn't want to let go,And in which Byun Baekhyun is too obstinate to listen.





	1. Prologue

prologue: _melody_

word count: 1,000

 

 

Chanyeol loved his boyfriend; a small boy with a big heart and sparkly eyes, with a laughter that could melt him, with a touch that felt like fire on his skin, and with a way of singing full of naïve love. Kyungsoo was all he could wish for, all he ever wanted, and there was no way he could change his mind about that.

And Kyungsoo, he loved how his boyfriend could light up every room he stepped in, and his words were always filled with passion. Kyungsoo loved how he sometimes fell asleep listening to those words, Chanyeol’s whispers forming a lullaby, accompanied by silky breaths and the occasional giggle, that made Kyungsoo feel like he was dreaming even before falling asleep. They both felt as if they were in a dream, and they didn’t want to wake up.

But Chanyeol used to dream more about music, more about creating melodies rather than singing them, to the point where Kyungsoo felt as if his boyfriend’s heart didn’t actually belong to him, but to his music. But he somehow had accepted it long ago, even before they started dating, before they sang the same song. And he remembers that day, rosy cheeks and awkward laughs, then a small kiss on his trembling lips and suddenly it all made sense, everything fell into place. They were soulmates, connected by a melody that tied their hearts together, a melody that could bend but not break.

Even though, sometimes, somewhere between dusk and dawn, they would walk on cracked lines. Because, sometimes, the dream becomes distorted, and they wonder if they should stop sleeping. Because, sometimes, it felt as if they were fabricating a dream they know they shouldn’t be dreaming, when the melody in their hearts still manifests a longing, an emptiness, and they can’t manage to fill the gaps with lullabies, no matter how hard they try.

And at some point, it felt like cold claws against skin, because they could see the flaws and the mistakes and they can’t help but count their words with trepidation, as if trying not to break the melody that now seems too brittle.

And they try, their days are about turning monochromatic words into glowing smiles, and their nights about fabricating tenderness and sun-colored kisses. And when solitude encounters them, their minds wander until landing on their song; the one that brought them together, the one that Chanyeol hummed with him that day, and the one that Kyungsoo decided to save in his heart forever.

 

 

So it didn’t matter to Kyungsoo when Chanyeol focused on other songs rather than the one they shared, when he spent his days and nights  pouring himself over music sheets, because time stopped for Kyungsoo when the subtle melody from his soul and the one in Chanyeol’s blended themselves together and, albeit it wasn’t like they had expected, the harmony that rose from it didn’t seem foreign to their hearts.

So they saw it as perfect, they knew it was perfect. So Kyungsoo couldn’t avoid reeking guilty selfishness everytime Chanyeol would spend hours composing music, because he sometimes felt as if nothing was perfect after all, because Kyungsoo couldn’t avoid wondering if the glow from Chanyeol’s smile would be only the result of his passion for his music, when he would complete a song and the glory of making yet another masterpiece was the only fuel of his melodious vehemence.

Kyungsoo wondered if Chanyeol’s heart belonged to a piano and not to him, if his heart preferred to drown in other melodies rather than their own, if at the end Chanyeol would choose music over him; the lover that slowly starts to fall apart in the distance, sweetly watching him while humming a fragile melody.

And sometimes Kyungsoo would breathe out questions to himself, the type of questions that feel like quicksand. A not so strange feeling that would knock his door from time to time, and sometimes he let it in, sometimes _they_ let it in. And every time, he found himself wrapped again around the other boy, and a sigh would escape his lips, because they couldn’t avoid shredding their own hearts, because he would rather die trying than raise a white flag.

Because maybe, his boyfriend was just trying to fill the gaps with other sounds besides lullabies and giggles. Because maybe, he noticed how the two melodies didn’t exactly fit perfectly. And Kyungsoo couldn’t help but dread the truth.

But every time doubt knocked on their door, Chanyeol reassured him in a tight embrace and velvety whisper, late at night in his studio or in Kyungsoo’s bedroom, that they did belong together, that they did fit perfectly –that their melodies fitted perfectly-, a murmur suggesting to him that, maybe, they weren’t going to end in a trainwreck.

Because sometimes Chanyeol would wonder, too, if they made a mistake, and his mind would go back to that day when there was hesitation and quick breaths, when he found soft quivering lips on his own trembling ones, he recalls his heart beating so, _so fast_ , the heartbeat rumbling like thunder in his ears, and he can recall how his face became a deep red, making the other boy laugh.

And Kyungsoo can recall how there was a knot in his throat when Chanyeol sang his melody, and how Chanyeols eyes opened like plates when Kyungsoo sang his own tune, when they realized that they were meant for each other. Kyungsoo can recall how they hummed together and made up stray, transient lyrics, and how Chanyeol could laugh with his whole face and body.

Chanyeol, whose eyes have flickers of stardust and whose velvety lips kissed him dearly; Chanyeol, who Kyungsoo loves deeply.

And he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, with anyone else.

 

There wasn’t any other song he would rather sing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe that’s why Kyungsoo’s heart sank when the melody started to slip from their hands, falling to the ground.

 

 

 

And he fell with it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shit's gonna be angsty.
> 
> lol sorry
> 
> Also, english is not my first language, so i apologize if there are any grammar mistakes!


	2. Fragile

part one: _fragile_.

word count: 2,695

 

Music sheets were scrambled in Chanyeol’s desk, beside iced tea and some highlighters. He was sitting next to his piano, watching the sunlight drizzle through the window of the small studio, the wind lifts up the curtains and ruffles the music sheets, and he watches as they fall to the floor. Summer is hot, and when his shirt is stained with sweat, he could swear the breeze drags down his inspiration just like it does with the music sheets, and he's not actually thinking of picking it up.  
His head falls back and an audible sigh escapes his lips; he hadn’t written a single note in a span of three hours and he felt like dying. Besides, the circles beneath his eyes darkened with each night he stayed up trying to finish a song, his skin sticky due to the summer steam and back stinging in pain from the constant hunched position. Being a music producer in the summer wasn’t paying off, the clients dreadfully suggesting that his songs were starting to get boring, the reason supposedly being that “he wasn’t capturing the summer vibe”.  He lets his eyes close for a moment, and his mind starts to wander over harmonies and rhythm and his lips mold tunes out of the thick air, the melody pouring over him like boiling water as he catches himself humming his soulmate song. A song that he didn’t want to think about at that moment.

Chanyeol picks up the paper off the hardwood floor, and inspects silently the music sheets, the thick ink strokes everywhere on the pages as if trying to make something out of the hot summer breeze. He keeps his face blank when he puts the papers back on his desk, and lazily makes his way to the open window to gasp for air. When sunlight pours over him, his brown strands of hair becomes amber and his eyes squint a little, then trail down to watch the people walking down the street, some of them rushing and some of them taking their time. Elbows resting on the wood chambranle, he rubs a hand through his tired features; it’s not the first time he has been like this, his body tattered over music notes and eyes burning from being kept too much time open, so he closes them. In his mind, there are eroded sculptures made out of melodies that he can’t manage to harmonize; each one fused with another, with no end or beginning.  
A faint buzz can be heard from the desk, the display saying in clear black font: “Come over?”

He pressed his lips together; he would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting that text. Kyungsoo would always grasp at the minutes when he had free time, not letting the chance of seeing Chanyeol slip from his hands. And Chanyeol wasn’t complaining, the neediness only meant that Kyungsoo loved him, and he definitely wasn’t uttering a single complaint. With Kyungsoo the sun was always shining, there was no sunset or midnight. That’s probably why it sometimes would feel plastic, as if the sun wasn’t more than a mere lamp and all of this was an idle attempt at keeping the 3:00 am talks away. But overexposure to artificial light can cause damage, and he could feel the burning sensation tickling on his skin.

“Sorry, busy”

 

And he wasn’t lying, but he can’t avoid the ill feeling, because maybe in another time he would have sprinted over there even if he had fifty tons of paperwork. But now there are crumbly words and guilty gazes and he’s not feeling like dealing with all of it. And he knows he’s being a coward. The iced tea on his tongue tastes like smudged ink and the air like some kind of ethereal –and at the same time harsh- melody that breaks at the touch.

 

“Fuck this” He finally snaps and storms out of the place, leaving the tea and music notes in the room that had started to feel like hell.

 

 

 

The door in front of him felt as if it judged him; the cracked wood and grimy white paint teetering on the edge of existence. He hastily scans over it before knocking. He maybe should’ve called earlier; after all, he said he was busy. His knuckles ghost over the door, and finally knock. He really should’ve called earlier, he thinks again. And the thought dissipates as a familiar voice greets him from the other side of the door.

“Chanyeol?”

In the yellow lighted hallway, he answers “yes” maybe with a little bit of too much enthusiasm, because maybe Kyungsoo knew he was coming over after all.

“Come in, it’s unlocked”

Chanyeol lets out a gasp of air he didn’t know he was holding in, just as he swings open the door.

 

 

 

The nights in summer are as hot as in daylight, with a little bit less hot humidity and a drier breeze that fills Kyungsoo’s apartment, lifting up the smell of sex and orange scented candles that he didn’t mind at all, less when Kyungsoo’s arm was wrapped around him in a way that he might haven't noticed he was longing for. Under the bed sheets he finds his legs intertwined messily with his boyfriend’s ones, and between soft kisses on the other boy’s closed eyelids and a faint caress on his hair, Chanyeol manages to untangle himself from Kyungsoo, the latter making a babbled complain that Chanyeol answers with another kiss.

He props himself up, head falling back on the bed’s headboard, the velvety wind that enters the space making his lashes flutter. He moves his gaze down, his eyes uncertainly met by the milky skin and the small frame of the other boy, his stare taking every inch of him carefully, slowly. Kyungsoo has his eyes closed and his breathing is deep, almost unnoticeable, he’s sleeping and Chanyeol wonders if Kyungsoo’s sleep has always been this peaceful; and if so, why has he never noticed.

His gaze moves to look at the now burnt out candles on the floor, right next to the bed, placed there in an idle attempt on making the meeting romantic, maybe. The copper colored wax gives Kyungsoo’s room a bit of color to his gray and white surroundings, an achromatic space that starts feeling somehow fragile at early hours. And at 3:00 am he tries to recall when was the last time he discovered orange scented air and his boyfriend’s warmness resting beside him. Perhaps weeks ago, perhaps months.

A hefty feeling of remorse -and probably a little bit of sadness- arises in his chest, and he wonders if it was really meant to be involved with those feelings. Because when it all started their love was sweet and harmless, a happy love song that he was enchanted with, glossy words and silk whispers that wrapped him in smiles brighter than the moon and all of the stars. And in his most likely infatuated state, there were no other thoughts in his head, no other melodies, just theirs. Maybe that’s why he didn’t notice all of the flaws, all of the discrepancies on the resonance in the whispered chant. And albeit he was still in love with his boyfriend, and was _still_ absorbed in their brittle lovemaking, he could see how both parts of their melody were not connected.

He realized two months after they started dating, uneasiness pulsing in his chest as he tried hard to overlook the solid fact. And thoughts of telling Kyungsoo about it used to breeze in from time to time, late at night in his studio and in the early morning in Kyungsoo’s bedroom. But when the other boy’s eyes gazed at him, bright as the sun, molding the words suddenly was not so easy. Not when those words would become knives, digging into flesh to leave broken hearts and eyes flooding with tears, not when the situation was surely doomed to be left in blinding agony.

“Yeol, what is it?”

Chanyeol stiffens under Kyungsoo’s mattress. He hadn’t caught his own frown growing as he was too occupied drowning in concern. Chanyeol shakes his head.

“Nothing, why?”

“You’re kind of… solemn”

Chanyeol shrugs, Kyungsoo frowns. The latter opens his lips, trying to form silent words that can’t come out. He doesn’t know what to say.

Because sometimes the truth does hurt more than lies, and even more when the lie already stings enough.

“I’m sorry”

The fractured whisper of Chanyeol resonates in the air, breaking in with dread. And Kyungsoo can’t help but cast out a bitter laugh, because he already knows the truth, and he can tell Chanyeol knows it too. And the orange scented air suddenly feels too artificially sweet.

“Don’t be”

They don’t say anything else, from that moment it’s just Kyungsoo buried in the nape of Chanyeol’s neck, both inhaling heavily when he closes the distance between them. And as dawn breaks in through the thick whitewashed curtains, they let themselves drown in manufactured love for just some more time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes Chanyeol finds himself leaning on a bar counter at 9 pm, loose between strong liquors and soul rhythms. Hunched on sienna seats and aurulent lights, he feels the burning sensation go down his throat and then dissipate along with his stream of thoughts.

“Fancy seeing you here” A body plops down on the seat beside him, blonde hair falling in his eyes and a half smile that screams sarcasm.

Chanyeol can’t help but snort at the comment, “You just traveled half-way across the earth,” he says, “to greet me like this?”

Sehun shakes with laughter, and there's still a smile on his face when he hugs Chanyeol and when they take their seats again, “I’m gone for four months and look at you,” he points at Chanyeol and squints his eyes “Wait, are _those_ green contacts?”

Chanyeol itches the back of his head and chuckles, “Gray, actually” with Sehun, the talks are usually like this, crystal clear. “How was Madrid?”

“So-so”

“What do you mean _so-so?”_

“It was fine,” Sehun looked down at his hands, tapping his fingers on the counter, “I didn’t mess around too much if that’s what you’re asking”

“That was _not_ what I asked,” He reached out for Sehun’s hair and ruffled it, it was an old habit “but I’m glad, you know how models can be sometimes,”

Sehun raises an eyebrow expectantly, “How?”

“ _Over attached_ ” Sehun laughs, "and also a pain in the ass" and this time Chanyeol's the one laughing when Sehun punches him. 

  

Chanyeol squares his gaze on Sehun while the other shakes his head, a smile on his lips. Looks like the four months away gave his old friend platinum blonde hair, broader shoulders and somehow a more mature appearance, the boyish face disappearing almost entirely, as he can still see the remains of youth behind his eyes. However, Chanyeol can clearly see the effect the industry has had on him, the constant push and pull they have to go through while drowning in neon lights and synthetic glitter. And he wonders if that childish part of Sehun, right behind the leather and heavy makeup, still believes in the fairytales Chanyeol stopped believing in a long time ago.

“You know,” Sehun starts, and Chanyeol knows what he’s about to say, so he interrupts.

“What about we go somewhere else” Chanyeol stands up, “and you tell me about it” Sehun nods, and in an instant they’re walking, and then they’re out of there.

 

Sometimes Chanyeol wonders if it’s everyone’s destiny to be happy and he’s just doomed to be left behind.

 

 

 

 

 

When Chanyeol opens his eyes, the clinking noise from glasses hitting each other disappears along with crisp wind and murmurs of “I found my soulmate, Chanyeol”, followed by “Congratulations”  besides fake smiles and invisible frowns. All of it replaced by pillows and soft blankets that give him an invitation to stay in bed a bit more.  With squinted eyes and chapped lips, he manages to reach his phone on the bedside table, 8:03 am. He’s late.

  
He rushes up and out of bed, almost tripping over his own legs. He was supposed to be meeting with his boss and coworkers at that exact moment, meaning he had to run like fire through stubble if he didn’t want his head chopped off.

  
The meeting was about the schedules for the upcoming auditions the company made once a year. An entertainment company, it usually looked for singers, dancers, models, and other people of the sorts. Sehun worked as a model, and Chanyeol as a music producer, making songs for the shows and artists of the company, even though lately it was more about mediocre jingles and commercial sounds he couldn’t help but repulse. Right now, they were looking for new faces, fresh blood that could attract more youth, it wasn’t about talent anymore, it was about who could sell more. And if he wanted to pay his bills, he had to cooperate.

  
  
When he arrived, he was met with frowns and tense jaws; surprisingly, it looked like they weren’t about him.

“My apologies, the meeting was delayed due to…” The boss cleared his throat, “A little altercate we had to deal with.” The other people at the table suppressed some laughs, Chanyeol didn’t understand why. “Anyway, let’s begin”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol almost choked on his drink.

“He- _again_?”

“Yeah, _again”_

It was the third time Byun Baekhyun was prohibited from stepping into the company’s building, yet he kept doing it every time auditions started. He was problematic, and a prestigious, well-known enterprise would never accept someone like him. A pretty face, yes; however, his fiery personality was just too much to handle. At least, that’s what the rumors said, because Chanyeol never had the chance to actually meet him, he just saw him that one time when the security staff had to drag him out of the establishment.

  
The rumors would go from things like “I heard he used to fuck older women for cash” to “I heard he killed his last manager”. Chanyeol knew the boy was trying to debut as a singer, and some said he actually had a good voice, but because all of the supposedly bad things he had done, no agency was willing to give him a chance anymore.

And although Sehun had been away for some months, looks like he already was updated with the latest gossips, and took the lunchtime at the cafeteria to update Chanyeol as well. He moved his seat closer to the table and took a sip of his drink before starting.

“The other day, Jongdae said the guy is…” Sehun murmured, “you know, those- uh- obsessed soulmate chasers or-”

“You mean a _whore_?”

“I said  _soulmate chaser”_

Chanyeol snorted.

“You all should stop talking so much _shit_ about people, y’know”

But what does it matter, if it had always been like that. Once you’re inside, there’s no way out and even if you try to get to the surface, you fall and fall and _fall_. So you learn to live with it, with the plastic faces and cold greetings, until you become another brick in the wall. Chanyeol had seen it a million times, how they all start as popular new faces to be quickly forgotten. There’s nothing tragic about it, they all see it coming by the end of their ride. Fame is a bubble that floats around aimlessly, until it pops and suddenly everything’s over. He had seen the process, uncountable nights spent writing hits only to be sung by fragile autotuned voices and tainted faces that, on the long run, end up discarded into oblivion,  just like everyone else.

“Whoa, we're bitter today,” the younger one sighs, “Whatever... how’s everything with Soo?”

Silence. Then a sigh.

“We broke up”

“Huh- wait, what?”

It wasn’t exactly a breakup, it had been more like a silent goodbye, some days ago, when Chanyeol hugged him and Kyungsoo cried dry tears. They didn’t talk after that.

“I mean” Sehun started, “I saw it coming but, why?”

Chanyeol let out a bitter laugh, then ruffled Sehun’s hair, it was really an old habit. There are no words, no response, and Sehun doesn’t ask one more time, the question dissipates and the subject is never touched again, and Chanyeol hopes it stays like that.

 

  
But then there are moments when Chanyeol remembers it, the who’s and the why’s, all of it between dust and light. The downcast eyes, the invisible tears, the surrendered hands. All of it. And it all comes at the same time, like a streak of lightning. And he hangs between the storm and the land, where he finds himself repeating a pointless melody, one that floats aimlessly, until it pops and suddenly everything’s over.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
